


This Is What I Need To Say

by ghostextremist



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Injury, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Alternating, more like 5+2, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostextremist/pseuds/ghostextremist
Summary: “‘Other things’?” he questions.“For instance, the fact that I lo—”“Don’t even, Boar. I know exactly what you’re going to say, and I don’t buy it.”“But it’s true,” he speaks in a hushed, sincere tone, as if cautious of scaring the other off, “I love you so much.”Felix grimaces and looks away from Dimitri. “I know.”Alternatively: five times Dimitri says "I love you" and two times Felix does.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	This Is What I Need To Say

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic comes from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=miWye4ppXPk) song of the same name :)

**_Blue Sea Moon, 1173_ **

Felix’s father and brother are in Fhirdiad on business, but the youngest Fraldarius has come along as well, hoping to spend time with the young prince. Every time Duke Fraldarius has business at the capital, Felix insists on going as well. While in Fhirdiad, the two young boys take every opportunity to spend time together; when Dimitri must complete his studies before playing, Felix studies alongside him, and when Felix is being trained by Glenn in his spare time, Dimitri watches in awe, silently pleading with eager eyes to practice alongside them until it becomes routine for him to train with them when the Duke and his family are around. 

Much like they are during the day, they are just as inseparable at night. The two lie in Dimitri’s bed—one much too big for such a small child—talking about their respective adventures while they’ve been apart. It’s late into the night, and Felix feels himself growing somewhat tired. He decides to let Dimitri’s current tale—something about sneaking past guards to feed snacks to his horse in the middle of the night—lull him into a state of quiet wakefulness; he does not have the energy to continue speaking or even keep his eyes open, but he still wants to hear how his friend’s story ends. 

Dimitri, though, thinks the other has fallen asleep. Before he reaches the end of his story, he cuts the tale short. He doesn’t want to keep talking and risk waking his friend; he looks so peaceful and content. Felix is almost tempted to crack open his eyes, to tell the young prince that he’s still awake and eager to hear the rest of the story, but something in his gut tells him to stay quiet and pretend to sleep. 

His senses prove to be keen when he soon feels Dimitri place his hand on his shoulder. “Felix?” he asks in a hushed tone. “Are you asleep?” 

He sounds nervous, Felix notes, as if he wants to confirm whether or not his friend will hear what he has to say next.

 _No, not yet_ , Felix wants to answer, but he worries that doing so would startle the prince and discourage him from speaking his mind. So instead, he elects to stay silent, listening intently for what Dimitri might say.

After a brief silence, he feels the other boy’s grip on his shoulder tighten ever so slightly, hears a nervous exhale from beside him. Felix is about to ‘wake up’ and attempt to soothe his friend when he hears these words leave Dimitri’s mouth:

“You’re the best person I know. I love you so much, Fe.”

He suddenly feels his companion snuggle up close to him, his head resting on his shoulder. Felix tries to remain as still as possible, pretending to not have heard the quiet confession. If Dimitri finds out that he heard those words, he may try to sheepishly take them back. Felix doesn’t want him to take back anything he truly means, doesn’t want him to hide his feelings away. He feels happy that the prince is able to express his emotions around him, even if he thinks the words have fallen on deaf ears. When he feels Dimitri’s breathing finally even out, he allows himself to smile as he too dozes off.

**_Pegasus Moon, 1178_ **

It’s been two weeks since they’ve quelled the rebellion. Two weeks since their first battle. Two weeks since he’s met the Boar. Felix and his father have just arrived back in Fhirdiad—some kind of diplomatic business to take care of, not that Felix cares much for the duties of Dukedom. All he wants is to get this over with and go back home.

It has already been two weeks since he’s seen Dimitri, but Felix wishes it’s been longer. For the past two weeks, Felix’s mind has been cluttered with images of the battlefield, with memories of his friend ferociously tearing into people nearly double his size. He doesn’t think he can face most anyone right now, especially not Dimitri. 

Ever since Duscur, he’s been different. He’s been closed off to everyone except the Duscan boy he’s befriended, but deep down he’s always still felt like the kind boy Felix has known his whole life. At the battle, though, he— _i_ _t?_ Felix corrects himself—became completely unrecognizable. Maybe he can hide away in a guest room for a few days and avoid—

“Felix!” a call comes from behind him. So much for hiding away.

He looks in the direction of the unfortunately familiar voice. There stands Dimitri, his previously shoulder-length hair is messily cropped just above the ear, bangs choppy and uneven, much like the rest of it. It almost looks like his head was attacked by a pair of scissors. He must have been looking for quite some time, because Dimitri clears his throat before speaking.

“I cut it myself,” he flushes, embarrassed, “but I’m not particularly good at eyeballing things, so it doesn’t look quite right. Longer hair was too difficult for me to manage in battle, though, so…”

Dimitri trails off and sends the other what seems to be an attempt at a warm smile.

It makes Felix’s blood run cold.

When he looks at Dimitri’s small grin, all he can do is remember the boy bathed in blood—the drying liquid matting his golden locks together, staining them a disgusting reddish brown—wearing a wicked smile on his face, eyes yearning for more carnage. The mere fact that the prince silently refuses to acknowledge it makes Felix’s stomach churn. 

“You should keep it like this. Suits you.” 

_Unkempt and wild, just like the animal I know you are,_ he wants to add, but stops himself. This is— _was?_ —his friend, and he can’t bring himself to say something that harsh.

Not knowing the hidden malice behind the words, Dimitri beams at Felix. “Thank you; I will! Want to go train together? I just finished oiling the weapons, so they’re—“

“No.” Felix quickly cuts him off. He can’t stomach the thought of seeing the prince— _t_ _he Boar Prince_ , his mind supplies—wield a blade right now. 

“No?” his smile falters.

“No. I want to be alone.” Felix clenches his jaw, knowing that if he doesn’t, he might say something he’ll regret. 

“Oh… Right, you must be tired from the journey here. I’ll let you rest for a bit, but I’ll be on the training grounds if you want to join me later.” He’s got a hopeful look in his eyes, but all Felix sees is the remnants of bloodlust they held just weeks ago.

“Not likely,” Felix turns on his heel and walks toward the castle's guest hall. 

“Felix? One last thing before you leave.” He sounds sad, scared even. It’s almost as if he senses Felix pulling away from him. Pulling away like he himself had done two years prior.

“What?” he faces Dimitri again

“I love you. Don’t forget that.”

Felix sighs, “I know.” He leaves.

Felix stays in his guest room for three days, only leaving for mealtimes. He doesn’t join his father on any more business affairs at the capital.

**_Red Wolf Moon, 1180_ **

“Stop following me, Boar. Can’t you see I’m busy.”

Dimitri stops a few paces behind Felix. Upon hearing the echoing footsteps stop, Felix turns around to face the other. The prince is staring at Felix, determination on his furrowed brow and a lance in his hands. Felix knows what he wants; this is what he always did when they were younger and he wanted to train with him and Glenn. The only difference is that the glint of childlike wonder in his eyes has been replaced with… something else. Something that Felix can’t quite describe, but can’t stand to even look at nonetheless. One thing is certain, though: these are not the eyes of the kid he once knew.

“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. I have to train.”

“Well, I thought we could train together, perhaps?” Dimitri twiddles with the weapon in his hands. “I’ve been wanting to show you some new skills I’ve learned.”

Felix squints, scrutinizing the other’s demeanor. There’s something else he wants to say; he can tell. 

“Why are you so anxious to spar with me? You usually wait until I tire of training dummies and ask you myself. There’s something you’re not telling me, Boar, so out with it before I lose my patience.”

“As you said, there’s something I wish to speak to you about.” Dimitri pauses, carefully contemplating his words. “Certainly you are aware of this, but I… I love you. Very dearly. And I want to spend as much time with you as I can. If the only time you’ll allow that is while sparring, I’ll gladly train with you every day.”

Felix bristles at the words. That isn’t what he was expecting at all. He figured Dimitri wanted to talk with him “just like the old days” again. He’d have preferred that, actually, because now he’s looking into Dimitri’s blue eyes— _those_ _damn earnest_ _eyes_ —and he feels compelled to believe his words. Dimitri’s expression looks so genuine, so vulnerable; he feels so much like the boy Felix was once proud to call his friend.

Felix’s glare softens for a brief moment before he sneers and turns around, his back facing Dimitri. The Dimitri he knew died at Duscur along with everyone else; this is just a beast doing a cheap imitation. This animal doesn’t even deserve a proper response, so Felix grits his teeth and begins to make his way to the training grounds once more.

“Felix, wait!” There’s a sense of urgency in his voice. “I said I—”

“I know.” He continues walking.

As he’s walking away, he hears the telltale sound of a lance snapping. There’s the boar he’s come to know; it can’t keep its charade up as good as it thinks it can. He doesn’t need to look back to know that the animal is staring at him with an expression of hurt and anger. He can feel the unbridled rage bubbling beneath the carefully crafted mask it dons. He continues on toward the training grounds, sure that the beast won’t follow this time.

**_Harpstring Moon, 1185_ **

It’s been less than 24 hours since the battle at Gronder Field. Less than 24 hours since Dimitri has woken from his reverie of bloodlust. Less than 24 hours since…

Dimitri knocks on the door to Felix’s old dorm at Garreg Mach. It feels weird, still—sleeping in a dorm room from a school they never got to properly graduate from. It’s what they have to make do with, though, and at least the familiarity of their old rooms provide some sort of comfort to most of them. However, Dimitri feels caged in his old room. It reminds him of all the hiding he did. Hiding from the ghosts in his mind, hiding himself behind the princely facade; it’s not a feeling he quite likes to linger on, especially now that he can finally live for himself. He much prefers the chapel. Its altered state allows him to truly feel the changes in the world; it lets him know that he, too, can change the world through his own methods.

The door opens slightly, breaking Dimitri out of his thoughts. “Ah, Felix,” he begins, “just the person I was hoping to see.”

“Considering you knocked on my door, I wouldn’t think you were looking for Sylvain.”

Dimitri chuckles softly before setting his face into a solemn expression. “Felix, there is something I must discuss with you. If you have the time, of course.”

Felix levels a hardened stare at him for a few seconds before sighing. He opens his door all the way, gesturing for Dimitri to come inside. Dimitri hesitates for a moment. He has years of sins to atone for, years of pain to assuage as best as he can. Ever since they’ve left Gronder Field, he’s been thinking of what to say to everyone. In truth, most of the past day has been focused on what to say to the swordsman before him. He’s spoken to most everyone currently residing at Garreg Mach; finding the words to say to them came naturally. They were hard to say, of course, but once he spoke, the words flowed freely. Here, at Felix’s room, though, the carefully crafted apologies he’s imagined dissipate from his mind. The nervousness he feels in the pit of his stomach is begging him to turn around, to come back when his feelings are less jumbled, less painful, less taxing.

He doesn’t listen to them, though. He knows he’s hurt so many people; he knows he’s hurt Felix too many times to count. His own discomfort from these wrongdoings is nothing compared to the anguish that he is at the root of. He has to make things right. It’s why he’s still on this planet, afterall. 

He notices Felix sending him an indecipherable expression—a conglomerate of different emotions, perhaps even a few that Dimitri himself is feeling. This prompts him to finally step into the bedroom, awkwardly taking up space by standing in the middle of it, not wanting to overstep any boundaries and get too comfortable.

Felix clears his throat, causing Dimitri to look him in the eyes. “Well? You came here for a reason, so let’s hear it.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Dimitri startles. “There is… a lot that I have to say to you. Perhaps too much to cover in just one conversation,” He can already see the patience wearing thin in Felix’s eyes. “But if I only have the time to say one thing right now, it is that I am deeply, truly sorry. For everything bad that I have ever done to you. For all the grief you have experienced because of me… For Glenn, and for Rodrigue.”

Perhaps it was wrong to mention them by name, because he sees a fire ignite in Felix’s eyes. 

“Don’t you dare mention them.” Felix spits out. “I’ve had to listen to you talk about the supposed ghost of my brother for the past four months. I’ve heard you say things he would never wish for, and you have the gall to mention him to me right now? And to top it all off, you bring my father into this. If this is all you had to say, you should go somewhere else to pretend like you care.”

“There is no pretending. Not before, not now, not ever.” The earnestness of his voice causes Felix to calm, if only slightly. “All I have been speaking of for the past five years has been a result of delusions. Even if what I said was incorrect, I never once meant to deceive. However, there do remain truths amongst the lies I have unintentionally told; I truly do wish to seek justice and uphold the wishes of our lost loved ones, among other things.”

“‘Other things’?” he questions.

“For instance, the fact that I lo—”

“Don’t even, Boar. I know exactly what you’re going to say, and I don’t buy it.”

“But it’s true,” he speaks in a hushed, sincere tone, as if cautious of scaring the other off, “I love you so much.” 

Felix grimaces and looks away from Dimitri. “I know.” He pauses. “Now, leave. I’m going on patrol and don’t want you loitering around here.”

Dimitri leaves with a wordless nod.

**_Ethereal Moon, 1185_ **

It’s the 20th. Dimitri’s birthday. His first birthday as King, but more importantly, the first birthday in five years that he’s spent with all of his friends. The former Blue Lions house members are having a small party in one of the castle’s upper chambers to celebrate the occasion. It’s nothing extravagant—just dinner, drinks, and lively conversation. It’s better than any other birthday Dimitri has had in a long time. This year, he is not alone with only ghosts hanging over his shoulders as his companions. This year, he has people who care for him—him, Dimitri, not the King of Fódlan—by his side. He needn’t make a wish upon the cake Mercedes and Annette baked for him; everyone he loves is already safe and beside him right now. 

At some points, the night’s excitement spikes—usually as a result of a playful jab that turns into a playful argument. As the night goes on, though, everything begins to calm down. Everyone breaks off into smaller groups, quietly conversing amongst themselves but still enjoying the presence of the entire group nonetheless. 

Dimitri watches the rest of his friends have fun. It’s nice to see them so relaxed, so carefree; everyone has been pushing themselves too hard lately, working to ensure the smooth unification of Fódlan. He notices, though, that one of them has stepped outside earlier and has yet to return to the party.

Dimitri gets up from his seat, excusing himself from the room as he makes his way towards the balcony door. When he opens it, he is immediately greeted by a cold gust of wind hitting his face. It displaces some hair into his face, and once he clears his vision, he sees Felix leaning upon the rail, a peaceful demeanor settled over him. He’s gazing up at the night sky, and Dimitri stops for a moment, taking in the way the moonlight gleams off of his hair, the way the stars form the perfect backdrop to the most serene view he’s ever seen. 

Realizing he’s stared for too long, Dimitri clears his throat, intending to make his presence known. Judging by how Felix doesn’t react, his presence has long since been noted. 

“You know,” he starts, “if you come back in, I’m sure Annette will sing you the new song she’s written.” Dimitri chuckles to himself.

“She already did.”

“Oh. Well, perhaps an encore is in order then, yes?”

“Is there something you wanted, Boar?” Felix asks, not wanting to entertain Dimitri’s attempt to coax him inside.

“I merely wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself. I think everyone would be much happier if you joined us.”

“If I wanted to go inside, I would.” the response is curt, his tone harsher than the biting cold of the wind.

Silence passes over them for a few moments. It’s almost peaceful, with Felix gazing at the bright sky and Dimitri marveling at Felix with an equal amount of fondness. Before tranquility can truly settle over them, though, Dimitri abruptly speaks.

“I love you.”

Once more, the balcony is silent. Felix continues to gaze up at the stars, but Dimitri notices he’s tensed slightly. The minute tightening of his grip on the rail and the rigidness of his posture are dead giveaways. Dimitri is keenly aware that his presence isn’t desired; not wanting to bother Felix any further, he turns back toward the door. As he’s about to head inside, he hears a low reply.

“I know.”

Dimitri smiles to himself, unseen by the other man. He speaks one last time before rejoining the others, “Keep warm, Felix. You’ll catch a cold.”

**_Garland Moon, 1186_ **

On the last morning of every month, Dimitri holds an open dialogue with the people of Fódlan. As the new king, he decides that he must personally address the problems of his citizens. Throughout the month, he allows letters to flow into the castle, reading the concerns of anyone who writes to him, personally penning a response to every single one of them. By the time the final day rolls around, Dimitri will have already compiled a list of every issue brought up to him. He goes out into the streets of Fhirdiad, talks to his people on nothing more than a raised platform so all who gather can see him. He gives them guidance and even asks for suggestions in return about how they would like him to resolve their problems.

“How many times must I stress this? I cannot address the entire continent from a balcony, Felix; I must talk with them, not just at them. I intend to be much more than an unreachable figurehead,” the king is pacing in his quarters, holding the same discussion he has had with his right hand every other month since his coronation.

“Yeah, yeah I get it, you say this every time, but it’s different right now.”

Dimitri looks at him questioningly, his expression asking Felix to elaborate.

“Are you serious? You look at all the letters people send you! You’ve seen how many people are mad about the efforts to reconcile with Duscur,” Felix frowns. “And that’s only the most vocal minority of them. It’s not safe to hold this council like normal.”

Dimitri turns around to face Felix, a frown set on his own face as well, a fire burning in his eye. “I cannot allow myself to be swayed by threats fueled by ignorant hate. I must be a strong, principled leader for all of Fódlan, and, in this case, especially for the people of Duscur.” 

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t hold this meeting. What I am saying is that you need to take precautions. Some of the letters you got seemed.. a little too serious of a threat to ignore. Wearing some armor will not make you a weak leader; it’ll make you a safe one.”

“It will make me a distrustful one.”

Felix groans in response. Why must their king be the most stubborn person in the world? While that bullheadedness makes him a great, unwavering leader who does not deter from his ideals, it also makes for the most annoyingly roundabout debates about his safety. The man simply does not consider his own health and protection, placing all his focus on the betterment of others before himself.

“I know you do not approve, but if I show that I am guarded from my own people, what kind of message would that send? If I do not trust them, how can they trust me?” Dimitri looks so earnest, a hint of sadness in his eye. Felix sighs; he hates seeing that look on his face—the look that shows his self-doubts and fears of not being able to live up to the expectations of the people.

“Fine.” he relents. “Fine, no armor. But I’m coming along with Dedue as security; I’m not budging on this one.”

Dimitri smiles brightly, “Thank you for trusting me. My life is in your hands.”

“Whatever, just finish getting dressed so we can head out soon.” Felix replies, turning on his heel to leave the room. Sometimes that smile is just too much to handle so early in the morning.

* * *

“Damnit!” Felix curses to himself. 

He’s kneeling on the ground, cradling Dimitri’s head in his lap. He feels so foolish; his worries only made him focus on potential ground attacks. Long-range tactics were never even considered. Whoever the sniper is, though, they’re a terrible shot—and hopefully terrible at retreating too; Dedue is off chasing them, determined to find whoever dares to harm His Highness and threaten the long-awaited peace of Fódlan. 

Felix’s gaze is focused on the wound. Two arrows stick out from the king’s stomach, and one of Felix’s hands is trying to steady the one that’s bleeding noticeably worse than the other, trying to ensure that it does not move around and cause any more damage. Blood is steadily oozing out of Dimitri’s gut, staining the swordsman’s glove a deep red. 

Felix glances up at Dimitri’s face, upset to find that his eye is closed. “B-boar,” he starts, “stay awake.”

No response.

“Boar.”

All he receives this time is a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement from Dimitri. The king still does not open his eye.

“Dimitri, stay awake damnit!” Felix yells out. This prompts Dimitri to crack his eye open.

“I’m sorry… Should’ve listened to you,” he murmurs.

“Shut up, you’re talking like this is it. You’re not gonna let a couple arrows take a beast like you down, are you?” Felix tries to stop his voice from quivering as he feels his hand getting wetter by the second. He’s not entirely sure it works. Needing something to do with his free hand, he brings it up to gently swipe stray hair out of Dimitri’s face, tucks the strands behind the man’s ear.

“Sorry,” he repeats.

“Stop.”

“No. Allow me to say this, please.” Dimitri pauses for a moment, his breath hitching. “I’m sorry for every way I hurt you, whether directly or indirectly. There’s so much more I could have done for you. I should have been a better heir, a better friend… a better everything, really. I—”

“I said _shut up_ ,” Felix’s grip on his hair tightens unintentionally. If it further pains Dimitri, he doesn’t show it.

“You’re crying. Why?”

Felix tries to blink away tears that somehow snuck up on him, tears that he hadn’t even realized were there. The attempt is in vain, though, as all that accomplishes is forcing them to spill out and drop onto Dimitri’s face. He releases his grip on Dimitri’s hair, uses his hand to wipe his own tears from where they had fallen. Felix chokes on the words, but forces them to out. He needs to say this.

“Because I love you!” he shouts at the prone king, closing his eyes as he continues to speak. “I never had the guts to say it back. I was always so mad at you back then, mad at what you had become and what you were pretending to be. But seeing you come back to yourself—your actual self—it made me so happy; it was almost too good to be true. I didn’t want to accept it because it meant I could lose you all over again… So that’s why. Because I lo—”

His breath hitches as he opens his eyes. He’s greeted with the view of Dimitri smiling smally, his eyelid looking heavy. His eye looks dull, and it makes bile rise in Felix’s throat. It reminds him too much of how Dimitri was during the war. He realizes, though, that this expression feels fundamentally different from how he was back then. Dimitri’s eye used to be clouded by delusion and anger, but now, while still hazy, it reflects a feeling of fondness, rather than hatred. 

A low, mirth chuckle escapes Dimitri’s mouth; it breaks Felix out of his thoughts. “I know,” he says lightly, before allowing his eye to fully close.

**_Blue Sea Moon, 1186_ **

Dimitri opens his eyes. His mind can’t quite focus on his surroundings, but he feels the familiar comfort of his own bed. Slowly, the world around him shifts into clarity, and it takes him a moment to visually register the figure at his bedside. Of course, once he was conscious, he recognized the presence of the person right next to him, but actually seeing Felix sleeping at his bedside makes a warmth bubble up in his chest. 

However, that warmth washes away as quickly as it had come, as he begins to think about the trouble he has caused Felix, how he must have worried him by foregoing common sense and making such a careless decision. Dimitri tries sitting up to get a better look at his bedside companion, but he must have made a noise without realizing it because Felix startles into alertness and aims a hardened stare at him.

“You need to be laying down.”

“I cannot see your face from that angle. It would be a shame not to while graced by your presence. Perhaps you should have sat near my good eye,” Dimitri chuckles.

Felix doesn’t laugh at his joke, but Dimitri takes notice of the minuscule hint of amusement in his eyes. He instructs Dimitri to lie back down once more, and, reluctantly, the king oblidges. Once he is situated back in bed, Felix moves to the other side of it, allowing Dimitri to see him better.

It is then that Dimitri takes in the tiredness that is written all over Felix’s entire being—notices the bags under his eyes, the tightness of his brow, his mussed up hair barely being kept tied back; he looks absolutely exhausted. Dimitri begins to feel more guilt pool at the bottom of his stomach again. He never meant to cause such grief for anyone, much less the man sitting before him. Losing himself in his thoughts, he grips his bed sheets tightly.

“Stop making that face; it’s pitiful to look at. You’re lucky Mercedes was here in Fhirdiad. Once we got you someplace safe, she healed you up better than any other medic could. You lost a lot of blood, though, so you’ve been out for about a day and a half. That’s what you wanted to know, right? Wanted to know how long everyone’s been fussing over you.” The swordsman says that last sentence as a fact, rather than a question awaiting confirmation. His tone is steely, but Dimitri can’t help but notice a tinge of something— _worry?_ —in his eyes.

Dimitri nods in response. He tries to speak, his dry throat betraying him, “I’m sorry for—”

“Enough with the ‘sorries’! I had enough of those before you collapsed.”

“Sor—” 

Felix levels a glare at him, so he clears his throat instead. This prompts Felix to pour him a glass of water, and Dimitri gulps it with the fervor of a starved man. A silence passes over them after this, neither quite sure what to say. Eventually, the king begins once more.

“About what you said before…” 

“Forget it.” Felix replies quickly.

“Pardon?”

“Forget I even said it,” Felix sounds guarded, unsure if he should continue. “I was worried. I thought I was going to lose you, and I needed you to hear it from me at least once in your life, okay? So drop it.”

“Felix…”

The man in question turns his head away.

“Felix, look at me. I may not know a lot of things… Most of what I thought I knew for nearly a decade were delusions whispered in my ears. I have lived so long being ignorant to the world around me, blindly listening to the pleas of the dead, but there’s something I’ve always been sure of. I’ve always known what you meant when I said that I love you. 

“You need not say it, because you show me through your actions, sometimes even through your… harsher choice of words. I have always appreciated the company you have provided me throughout the years, but I never felt as though I could do the same. I struggle with my emotions and showing others how I really feel, so I would resort to telling you outright. It took me some time to accept it, but I understand why you would not want to openly return the sentiment, considering who—what—I am. I am grateful that you even thought to consider my feelings in what could have been my final moments, but please, do not force yourself to say things which you are not comfortable with. Not for me. Not for someone who has done nothing to deserve such affections.”

Dimitri ducks his head, partly from embarrassment for his tangent, partly from guilt of worrying the man before him, for pressuring him to say words he surely did not wish to.

“Boar…” Felix uses what can easily be mistaken for an angry tone, but Dimitri takes note of what almost sounds like a fond lilt in his voice. 

When the king silently refuses to look up, Felix begins once more. “Hey, it’s your turn to look at me,” he says, much softer this time.

Dimitri chances a look at the swordsman and is met with the faintest smile gracing Felix’s face, his lips slightly upturned, his eyes looking softer than he’s seen them in years.

“Stop selling yourself short. I said it because I wanted to. I.. don’t actually want you to forget it, if it made you happy.”

Felix recalls the tender expression on Dimitri’s face when he confessed; he doesn’t want that smile or its cause to be forgotten. He sucks in a breath, contemplating before saying these next words:

“You’re the best person I know. I love you so much, Dima.”

Dimitri’s eye widens upon recognizing the words. “So you were awake all along…” He smiles, and Felix smiles back when he sees it reach his eyes.

“Of course I was. As if I’d ever be able to sleep with you talking my ear off.” he teases.

“I seem to recall you loving me ‘talking your ear off’; you hung onto every word.” Dimitri lets out a low rumble of a laugh.

“Oh yeah? Well hang onto these words.” Felix leans in close, his lips barely grazing Dimitri’s ear. Dimitri flushes at the proximity. 

He speaks softly, “Get some rest, Boar. You look like shit,”

Dimitri, understanding the meaning behind the words, simply smiles and responds, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at my tumblr [ghostextremist](https://ghostextremist.tumblr.com) or my twitter [@tomatoextremist](https://twitter.com/tomatoextremist)!


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